


i've got a blank space, baby (and I'll write your name)

by lushatrocity



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attraction, Awkwardness, F/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lushatrocity/pseuds/lushatrocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake wakes up in a stranger's bed -- and finds that when it comes to the morning-after dance, he is horribly out of practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got a blank space, baby (and I'll write your name)

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me during a recent rewatch of one of my all-time favorite series (ten points if you can guess what it is!) and the premise felt like the perfect set-up for this little au. As always, I am terrible at reading my own work so please forgive any errors!

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains and the filtered warmth lured him away from blissful dreams gently. Shifting, he sighed at the pleasant feel of silk scraping against his skin, the sensation intensified as his mind swam closer to the edge of coherency. Scrubbing a hand over his face, his jaw cracked with the force of his yawn as he extended his free hand to the left to reach for his phone -- but his fingers only encountered air. A confused noise welled up from the back of his throat as his hand continued to search, before blearily cracking an eye open when his search continued to come up empty. It was at thought point that he made a startling discovery.

 

His nightstand was missing.

 

And that wasn't the only thing odd. As his vision sharpened, he was able to make out the shape of a dresser that  _definitely_  was not his, on top of which sat picture frames with people he  _definitely_ did not recognize, and below that in a cluttered heap were clothes that he  _definitely_ did not own.

 

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he craned his head every so slowly to inspect the other side of the bed and groaned faintly when his suspicions were confirmed by the body stretched out next to him.

 

_Fuck._

He almost blurted the thought out loud, and must have made some sound because the form shifted with a soft hum. Clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle any further disasters, his free hand extended towards the body as if he could force her to remain sleeping with the sheer force of his will.

 

After what seemed like hours (but was probably only 30 seconds), the body stilled and he began carefully unwrapping himself from the nest of sheets in order to make a break for it. 

 

Locating his pants (and thanking every deity in the universe when he found a condom wrapper beneath them) he pulled them on frantically before a delicate cough caused him to snap his head up so fast that he felt dizzy ( _goddamn_  Jasper and his  _goddamn_  car bombs).

 

She had turned over onto her stomach, chin propped up on one hand and a messy tangle of blonde curls piled atop her head. Amusement glowed in her gaze as she watched him struggle to find his balance. 

 

"Uh.. hey."  _Real smooth, Blake._  


Her smile widened and suddenly he was hit with flashes of red lips, quiet laughter and soft,  _soft_  skin. "Hi," she replied.

 

"Uh, last night was ... uh, great," he announced, scratching at the back of his neck. "I mean, it was --   _we_  were ..." He was sinking and he knew it -- and so did she by the way her smile kept growing. "Last night was great."

 

She chuckled softly, and the low sound caused his stomach to tighten in response. "You already said that."

 

"Yeah, right." Her feet waved in the air languidly and the sight of those bare calves coated in the morning light caused him to swallow thickly before turning away to hunt for the rest of his clothes. "I, uh, don't really do this. My, uh, job makes it a little hard to ...."

 

"--Meet people?" She supplied helpfully.

 

"Exactly!" He pointed vaguely in her direction before bending down to peer under the bed in search of his left shoe. "It's really demanding and I, uh, have to go there now actually."

 

Rising back to his feet, he turned back to the bed -- only to nearly choke when he realized that she had used his distraction to her advantage, rising up to her knees on the edge of the bed so that she was right in front of him. In his shirt. Which was only barely buttoned.

 

_Lord have mercy._

 

Trying to ignore the hammering of his heart against his ribs, he focused his attention on her eyes and refused to even allow his eyes to drift even an inch lower. "Look, uh...." 

 

"Clarke," she supplied, helpful as ever.

 

"Clarke," he continued, chin jerking in a subtle show of gratitude. "I'm going to need that." Pointing in the vague direction of her chest (though he  _did not_  look down).

 

"Hm?" Brow scrunching in faux confusion, she ducked her chin to glance down at herself. "Oh, of course." Running her fingers down the shirt's edge, she made a show of slowly undoing the last few buttons and revealing the creamy skin beneath.

 

Bellamy couldn't help but whimper pathetically.

 

Taking the shirt from her gingerly, he pulled it on with a sigh. "I swear I used to be better at this," he confessed, unable to resist from sinking further into her orbit.

 

She rewarded him with a soft press of her mouth before pushing him away with a chuckle. "Go clean up -- bathroom's in there," indicating with a wave of her hand before slipping off the bed and wrapping herself up in a robe. "I'll go make some coffee."

 

After washing his face and giving himself a rather stern pep talk --  _he was Bellamy fucking Blake and he could goddamn handle a pretty girl, after all --_ he emerged from the bathroom and followed the sweet aroma of fresh coffee towards the kitchen.

 

Clarke handed him a mug before turning back to the counter with a sheepish smile. "Your phone went off while you were in there. I thought it was mine -- these damn things look exactly alike you know?" Holding up them for him to inspect. "Anyways, it keeps going off -- and I didn't mean to snoop, but I think your friends are pulling some kind of prank on you, or you guys talk in a really weird code, because it said something about POTUS blessing a tree or whatever -- wait, where are you going?" She asked as Bellamy dumped his mug in the sink and rushed towards the door.

 

"I gotta get to work!" 

 

"Wait --  _Bellamy!_ " The urgency of her shout had him pausing at the door long enough for her to chase after him. "You forgot your phone," she said while holding out the device -- only to snatch it back once he extended his hand. "What's POTUS anyways?"

 

Relieving her of his phone (it paid to be tall), he sighed. "President of the United States." Using her shock to his advantage, he pressed a quick kiss to her temple before darting out into the hall, tossing over his shoulder, "I'll call you!" 

 

\----------------

 

Clarke had, in fact, interpreted the frantic message from Miller correctly, and President Jaha had, indeed, decided to perform a ceremonial blessing on a tree during his jog this morning.

 

An act that just so happened to be caught by half a dozen would-be journalists armed with smartphones and access to the internet.

 

"He appreciates nature."

 

"Bellamy," Raven groaned, leaning against the door to his office. "You can't really expect me to say that in the briefing."

 

He scrubbed at his face. "Christ, Raven -- just spin it, okay? I really don't give a fuck --" His cellphone chirped and he held up a finger in her direction while searching for it. Raven groaned in annoyance and he rolled his eyes at her before glancing down at the text message.

 

_8:00. The Gibson. Wear red._

"What the fuck?"

 

"Something wrong?" Raven asked, stepping away from the doorway.

 

"No -- look, just take care of the press, okay?" 

 

"Fine, but I swear to god, Blake, if this ends with me having to learn about goddamn nature rituals I will cut you." Pointing a threatening finger in his direction, she turned to head back out into the hallway.

 

Bellamy waited a few more seconds to ensure the coast was clear (Raven had a tendency to pop back up if she felt her punch line hadn't been strong enough initially) before pressing a button on his phone to call the unknown messenger back.

 

The phone rang once before a sultry voice answered. "Champagne Escorts?"

 

Freezing in place, Bellamy can barely manage to squeak out: "Who is this?"

 

"Champagne Escort Service," the woman answers calmly.

 

He ends the call with trembling fingers and sinks down into his chair slowly. Numbly, he swipes his thumb over the screen and stares at the background photo before finally dialing a number.

 

"Hello?" 

 

"Clarke?" He chokes out.

 

"Bellamy!" Her relieved tone fills his ear and he sinks further into his seat, horrified. "I think I have your phone, I told you they looked alike--"

 

"Clarke!" He cut in, panic causing him to raise his voice unnecessarily.

 

"What?" 

 

"Are you a  _hooker_?" He grits out -- before the sound of a gasp causes his head to snap up and catch sight of his assistant and, even worse, his sister standing in the doorway.

 

_Fuck._


End file.
